


Truth or Dare: Thongs

by thtzwhatuthink



Series: Truth or Dare [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst-Free, FaceFucking, Genji is a shit, Hanzo had a slutty yukaza life he hid from overwatch, Humor, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Tracer's thongs are involved, blowjob, cigar smoking during erotica, eye contact kink, guess how they find that out, hanzo is commanding, masturbation to poledancing, poledancing, she will not want some of them back, stripteases, torbjorn isn't present and this is important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-12 15:38:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11740050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thtzwhatuthink/pseuds/thtzwhatuthink
Summary: Leave it to Genji to dare Tracer to get her underwear drawer from her room and set it down in the middle of the truth or dare circle. Resident Cowboy is dared to put a thong on, and he's not the only one. In fact, the thongs are merely a catalyst for what Hanzo gets himself into tonight.





	Truth or Dare: Thongs

**Author's Note:**

> Bust a nut!

“I dare you to put your hand under Genji’s groin plate!”

“Tracer, my hand has already been there because _it built that area_.” Mercy replies flatly, elbowing a specific area on Genji’s arm that trigger all his armor plates to elevate slightly with a gentle _whizz_ of air. Enough for her to slither her hand down his stomach and jam her fingers into an inverted triangle plate that made him a Ken doll.

“What’s under there anyway?”

“The off button.” Mercy deadpans. Genji stretches casually as if the doctor did not have her hand in the most sacred part of his wiring. Only after calling out, “Truth or Dare, Hana?” does she remove her hand. Angela’s dares were always harmless, her nurturing side to thank for that, but she was no stranger to weird predicaments. So, when she dared tiny Hana to scale towering Reinhardt to his shoulders, it was awkward but in a family friendly way. In fact, she remains on the Overwatch resident grandpa for the duration of the game.

That family friendly way did not last long however.

Leave it to Genji to dare Tracer to get her underwear drawer from her room and set it down in the middle of the truth or dare circle. Unsurprisingly her collection was mostly of brightly colored thongs and boxers. She seemed proud of her collection, especially the more obnoxiously colored garments.

Leave it to Pharah to jokingly dare McCree to go put on one of Tracer’s thongs.

Leave it to McCree to actually _fucking do it_.

He struts back in the room, presumably from changing in the hallway. Standard Cowboy Issue pants, boots, bandana, cheeky belt, and plaid shirt. Except, the plaid shirt is unbuttoned and tied up into a knot. An obscurely deep v-line is formed with the end fashioned into a bow, tied with each half of the button-down shirt.

Not only did this display his lack of decency and copious amount of chest hair, but it also showed his waistline muscles and a _bright red thong_ above the belt. It was hiked up far too high on the man’s hips. 1980s work-out instructor outfit on VHS tape kind of thong. It made several in the circle cringe just thinking about how uncomfortable McCree asscrack may be. Yet the wild man does not show pain, rather he does a twirl to provide a _full view_ and basks in the attention. Evident by his curtsy at the end and pleased grin.

Hanzo tries his hardest not to gawk, but really, this man is on another level of shameless, blatant pride.

When he strides forward to return to the circle and sit down, his footsteps are deliberately heavy. The spurs on his boot _clack_ with each step that breaks the silence of his gob-smacked crowd. No one’s eyes have left the cowboy, and Hanzo’s thankful because his eyes scour every inch of that man except his face. He wouldn’t dare bring his eyes back up to said face either, rather he tears them away to stare down at the unassuming pile of thongs because he does indeed feel someone’s gaze on him.

“Hanzo,” There’s one final jingle of a spur before McCree sits down again in the circle. Nearly an eternity passes in Hanzo’s mind before the man continues, “Truth,” Jesse takes his sweet time to pop an unlit cigar in his mouth, “Or dare?”

Hanzo had no reason to not pick dare.

He should have seen it coming though.

“I dare you to wear a thong.”

Hanzo closes his eyes, throwing his head back to hit the wall he was leaning against, eyes closing in time with a deep breath. His brother next to him loudly chants encouragement to _just do it_ , not unlike a fratboy. Hanzo had a life to live, but to live is to experience it.

That’s his excuse for standing up, blindly reaching into the haphazard mountain of thongs before him, and moving out of the room to change.

Why did he have to grab the leopard print one? _Why?_

When he returns to the recreational room, he’s fully clothed. When he sits back down, Genji takes the liberty to shove his hand down Hanzo’s sleeve and past his torso. Hanzo doesn’t flinch when Genji hooks a finger around the elastic band of the thong and snaps it loudly, against his flesh.

Hanzo does go red though. As if the sound of elastic was not enough, Genji calls to the group, “Can confirm he is wearing it.”

“Genji,” Hanzo doesn’t even bother asking truth or dare, “I dare you to wear Tracer’s underwear—regularly, as a hat, and as a necklace.”

The cyborg clasps his hands together as if he was patiently awaiting his turn to touch the thongs. Hanzo finds his brothers playful eagerness amusing, but he doesn’t show it. Genji adorns a sporty neon yellow thong on his hips, a poka-dotted one on his neck, and boxers with hearts on them for a hat.

For some reason, Genji found his attire to improve his coolness and it shows in his demeanor; leaning back like a king with arms sprawled out.

The dares bounce around the circle of agents from there. Hanzo blissfully untargeted until it loops around to his brother being dared to undress Lucio down to his underwear. Lucio beatboxing to provide his own “unce unce unce” techno striptease music as Genji simultaneously grooves by bobbing his head while removing the DJ’s shirt and pants.

“You two look ridiculous.” Hanzo comments, small smile present to see his brother in a good mood.

“Oh yeah!? Brother, truth or dare.”

“Dare.” Hanzo haughtily shot back to Genji, taking a swig of sake.

“I dare you to strip tease down,“ Again, he should have seen it coming, “To nothing but that thong— _on McCree_.”

Hanzo spews out his drink. “ _Excuse_ me?” he sputters.

“You heard me.”

Hanzo’s gaze slowly drags from Genji, with his shit eating grin, to McCree, who is sitting now with perfect posture on the other side of the truth or dare circle. The moment he notices Hanzo looking his way, his eyes find sudden interest in the brim of his hat. He twiddles his thumbs and starts whistling an all too casual and cheery tune.

Hanzo must remind himself that his brother is already dead, as he stands.

A single finger beckons McCree to follow Hanzo to a lounge chair outside the circle. The man scrambles to his feet, and sits down immediately when Hanzo commands, “Sit, cowboy.” McCree’s eyes not once straying from Hanzo.

Lucio finds connection to the Bluetooth speakers within the room, and queues up the song [“Careless Whisper”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FtbrwGidqR8). A saxophone instrumental erupts from the loudspeakers.

Hanzo looks over his shoulder one last time to glare at Genji, before giving himself to the smooth jazz rhythm. Jesse’s awfully quiet when Hanzo’s knees make their way on each side of McCree’s thighs, hips beginning to gyrate in the man’s face.

There’s several whistles from behind him when he unties his belt slowly, and tosses it aimlessly behind him. Jesse’s face was well hidden by the wide brim of the stupid cowboy hat, and somehow that helped Hanzo stomach some of the embarrassment of the act. Eye contact with rich and warm brown eyes turned him on way too much for Jesse to be staring at him as he did this.

What Hanzo can see under the brim of the hat though is a lip bite, on a rather pronounced lower lip pout.

It gave him some confidence, to shimmy each individual sleeve off slowly. To rub each cloth piece down his arms sensually. With his top fully removed and somewhere behind him, his hip gyrations do nothing but further display his clearly defined abdomen. His body rolls became enthusiastic when he finds himself all too amused with the situation. Laughing quietly in a way that only Jesse could really hear and see.

The said sound is what causes the cowboy to look up, hat tilting to expose flushed cheeks, pink nose, and dilated eyes. That look screamed _fuck me_ , but Hanzo ignored that part of his mind and excused the thought for alcohol. However, he does have enough alcohol in his system to jokingly tease:

“Like what you see, cowboy?” His voice was lower than intended.

The dumbstruck look on McCree’s face as he very slowly nods his head ‘yes’ is absolutely worth it though.

Hanzo pulls back to stand on his feet again, swinging one foot onto Jesse’s lap and very slowly unlocking his boot before removing it. He repeats this for the other foot as well, heel placement on McCree’s lap deliberate. The foot sliding on McCree’s lap to find ‘sure footing’ is also intentional and it seems to have the desired effect when McCree fidgets.

Hanzo turns to the side, and very slowly drags his pants down his thighs to reveal the previous embarrassment that is a leopard print thong. The circle erupts into a cacophony of whistles, hollers, and bouts of raunchy praise. Once near his knees he lets the fabric fall with its own weight. With a toe, he picks up the discarded pants, and flings it as tantalizingly as he could onto Jesse’s lap. Calf flexing, thigh lifting high and revealing where the thong is swallowed by his ass underneath.

The group behind him goes into an uproar at his actions.

He also takes the liberty to spin slowly around once, in a way that imitated the cowboy’s thong-reveal twirl, before also mimicking the cowboy’s earlier curtsy.

As a final act, Hanzo finds the most effective way to pick up his removed shirt, belt, and boots is by turning his back to McCree and squatting down slowly. The action was innocent, yet his arched back portrayed his butt in a much less demure way.

With outfit in arms, he returns to his seat at the truth or dare circle. Hana, Genji, and Lucio assume a worshiping position on the floor and repeatedly bow down to Hanzo. He finds himself laughing at their antics and even more so at himself as he grabs his sake bottle and has a few more sips. He puts a hand over his eyes and leans back onto the wall just like before.

Briefly, he peaks through his fingers to find McCree still in the lounge chair, hat on his lap and head in his hands. When he gets up from the lounge chair to return to his seat in the circle, he keeps his hat over his belt buckle.

What a peculiar action. Hanzo isn’t the only one to notice.

“Trying to hide something Jesse?” Genji taunts, a devious expression plastered to his face.

McCree either did not hear or chose to ignore it. The room was a little too loud to hear the causal volume his brother used. Hanzo doesn’t think much of it.

He doesn’t think much of it until the circle has a round where everyone, most now in significantly less clothing than before, opts to take a break and chose truth.

“Hana is it true you have never hacked to win?”

“True! No hacks required.”

“Mercy is it true that Genji once asked you to give him a cybernetic phallic device?”

“Not true, but now you’ve given him the idea. Thanks.”

“Hanzo,” He has learned it is never good when Genji directs either a truth _or_ dare at him, “Is it true that you learned how to pole dance when you owned nightclubs in the Kyoto prefecture?”

That was a loaded question Genji already knew the answer to—because Genji owned those clubs with him.

Hanzo had did a damn good job at putting his slutty, cocaine exploiting ex-yukaza life behind him. He built up a double life of a renown untraceable assassin feared on an international scale as someone with no ties left to cut, then killed off the wild illegal arms and drug dealing he handled in Japan’s nightlife to fully embrace redemption.

Yet here he is, clad in only a leopard-print thong staring with insurmountable dismay at his brother’s shit-eating grin. Lucio even stopped the quiet techno that filled the room previously, putting the world at a complete standstill and dead silence as Hanzo regrettably answers:

“True.”

“ _That’s_ —not even in Overwatch files for you.” Angela admits.

“I hope to the gods pole dancing isn’t in my professional assassin files.” Hanzo grimaces, clutching his sake more tightly with each passing moment.

“Well I meant, owning establishments—“ Hanzo cuts her off.

“You have that intel on Genji, only difference is _a good yukaza_ will have a pristine criminal record.” He throws side-eye to Genji, dotting on how many times his family went into deep shit with the authorities for his brother’s reckless behavior. He was always bailed out, but Hanzo was on another level with his illegal activity never getting caught let alone monitored.

Genji chuckles happily, as if reminiscing on good times.

“If you didn’t want to fuck with my brother now, you wouldn’t want to see his lethality and character back then.” Genji adds.

Hanzo stretches one muscular leg out into the circle, then brings his other knee upright near his chest. He rests an arm casually on said knee, still leaning against the wall. He schools his face into a hardened unreadable expression as soon as Genji was asked to clarify.

“Hanzo could emerge alone from the VIP section of a nightclub—unarmed, naked, bedazzled butt-plug up his ass, and in light bondage—and take out twenty heavily armed men. No civilian causalities.”

Hanzo smacks his hand to his quickly warming face. Of the plethora of examples Genji could have used, he chooses _that_ one. Of all cool things Hanzo has ever done, Genji had to hand-pick one of the freakier instances and describe it vividly.

 _“There’s a point in which less is more, especially with your appalling choice of words.”_ Hanzo says quietly in Japanese. Genji giggles like a schoolgirl.

 _“Why don’t you take a subtle look at the pistol user, hmm?”_ Genji replies in fluid Japanese.

Hanzo peeks yet again through the cracks between his fingers on his face, to see a wide eye, red-faced McCree sitting directly across from him on the circle. The man is staring at him, but most certainly not at Hanzo’s face.

That look screamed _fuck me_ , Hanzo is sure of it this time.

Hanzo drops his hand and turns his head to look at his brother, questioning in their own dialect why the man looks like that.

_“A little sparrow might know somethings, and earlier I think you turned him on. If you want me to find out, give me your truth or dare question.”_

Hanzo grunts, feigning a well-practiced annoyed tone as he asks: “Truth or dare, you shit.”

“Truth.” Genji sits tall, legs crossed, hands clasped together in a mock business-like fashion.

“Is it true that you also learned how to pole dance?” Genji agrees enthusiastically, clearly shameless about his old skillsets. Lucio resumes the techno music as Genji pretends to grip an imaginary pole in front of him and roll his body.

His demeanor equally as playful when he directs his truth or dare question to McCree. He follows the unspoken protocol of choosing truth.

“Is it true that Hanzo’s strip tease gave you an erection?” Hanzo gapes at the sheer bluntness of Genji’s statement.

Whatever subsiding pink hues dusted the cowboy’s cheeks and bridge of nose, surged back onto his face. Genji gestures to the hat still on Jesse’s lap. It’s been a _long time_ since Hanzo’s seen a grown man squirm in his seat uncomfortably.

McCree stares at Genji as if some sort of betrayal just occurred between the two of them. “Uh,” Whatever confidence he had earlier with the red thong debacle, it’s gone now. The cowboy’s dignity must have scampered under the couch. He couldn’t hide his face in his hat either, because the hat was hiding _something else_. Who knew thongs were super uncomfortable around erections? Who knew it made the bulging effect worse?

McCree knew.

His eyes once-over Hanzo; aware of the archer’s gaze acutely on him. He’s not only cornered but he’s beyond the point of no return.

“ _Shucks_ , uh—maaaaybe.”

A wave of giggles and whispers erupt through the truth or dare circle, with McCree as its epicenter. Hanzo does nothing but flicker a glance at the cowboy, before eyes fall downward to stare at the underwear pile still in the middle. A satisfied smirk gracing his lips. It was oddly fulfilling knowing he influenced a usually raunchy untamed cowboy. Hanzo could reduce the shameless man to a red-faced embarrassment blob with probably just his ass. Adrenaline flies through Hanzo’s veins as scenarios will themselves into Hanzo’s thought process. All the ways he could turn McCree on, so innocently in public.

Oh wow, that’s an invigorating feeling.

So when the dares resume, they’re absolutely targeted now. Hanzo smug now that he’s dared to pole dance directly in front of McCree. The only thing stopping him is lack of required pole.

“There is no adequately equipped pole on this watchpoint.” Hanzo mentions, not at all denying the dare.

 _“That’s what you think.”_ Pharah unexpectedly speaks. Heads turn.

“Don’t look at me like that! One of the backrooms of the mechanics bay has a room with purple velvet wallpaper, florescent blacklights, and sofas that look like they haven’t seen daylight since the 1970s. There’s a pole that spins in place in the middle of the room. I thought it was just a locked ammunition room with a jammed door.”

A stunned silence ensues, before Angela speaks up:

“Well, we never did ever ask what Torbjörn does in his spare time…”

A collective expression of disgust immediately consumes the group. Hana gags. What has been thought of cannot be unthought of, and it’s a price McCree is willing to pay as the original dare is brought back to attention.

Pharah leads Hanzo and McCree to said questionable room. Hanzo blissfully walking in front of McCree, who gives the leopard print thong his undivided attention as they walk into the mechanics bay. There were mirrors in their current hallway, enabling Hanzo to glance to the side and clearly see McCree’s hat _and_ gaze directed downward.

The increasing sway of his hips he swears is just to tease.

Pharah leads them far back into the dusty section of the bay; evident that it was rarely frequented. She rounds a corner and proceeds to strong-arm a door by lifting it up manually. She gets it half way, and something _clicks_ , before it slides up rest of the way with significant ease.

The room is just as she described, and as quickly as she opens it she whips around and begins heading far, far away from the room.

“Have fun you two.” She calls over her shoulder, Egyptian accent thick.

Hanzo beelines straight towards the poll to inspect it. McCree slides his hand along the nearest wall to find a light-switch. When he does find said ancient switch, sensual instrumental music begins to play as only half the lights turn on. A cool blue and dim glow illuminates the room from the ceiling down.

It's just enough to make anything brightly colored, like McCree’s red thong, glow. It’s also the right amount of lighting to make the shadows cast by muscle on skin all the more sultry.

A moment later, the old seemingly defective door, closes by itself with surprising ease.

McCree huffs a single laugh at its finicky behavior, although silently thankful for the privacy. Something told both that this was a room that Athena could not access. The pole turns in Hanzo’s hand as if well-oiled on the inside, no squeaks either. He finds himself smirking; curious who keeps the maintenance up on it.

The room is small. Enough for two sofas and about a meter of floor space between the sofas and the pole. The ceiling’s additional height Hanzo uses to his advantage, gripping the poll with purpose by his hands and his crossed calves, as he climbs his way up to the top. Whatever McCree was doing down below ignored until he reached the top. Hanzo grips the pole with just his crossed thighs, and reaches up to rub a finger across the ceiling, and inspecting the dust.

He glances down casually at McCree, who has situated himself in the middle of one of the groovy sofas.

A flask of whiskey in one hand, and a lit cigar in the other. He gazed up from under the brim of his cowboy hat, expression calm with a smoke in hand and privacy. He slouches; knees spread far apart to take up as much seating as possible. Hanzo wonders if he does so to appear larger. The lighting was not strong enough to see if there was a bulge in the man’s unconcealed crotch area now, especially at the distance Hanzo’s height at the top of the pole provided.

If there was no erection right now, there was about to be one.

Hanzo grips the pole and throws momentum in his weight. Creating a painstakingly slow spin, Hanzo lifts his body outward, second hand gripping farther down on the pole as he breaks into a split, horizontal with the pole.  That split is held for a moment, before a foot shifts between his arms and has a firm placement on the pole, and he does a split perpendicular to the pole as well. From there he twists and curves as he slowly slides the length of the pole, arching his back out in some places and sticking his ass out in others.

He has yet to look at McCree.

When he reaches the floor, he arches out his butt in McCree’s direction, before sliding lower and lower to floor as his legs slide apart. He ends with a split on the floor, hands as high as they could go above his head, still holding the pole. He hears a low whistle behind him, and looks back to arch only one eyebrow at the cowboy.

That’s the third time McCree has given him bedroom eyes, and at this rate Hanzo might act on them.

The embers on the edge of the cigar illuminate on inhale as Hanzo pulls the hair-tie from his hair. He climbs mid-way up the pole again, and locks his thighs together before leaning back with arms dangling elegantly. The next series of moves Hanzo performs are mostly upside down. There’s a little more hip action when he’s not upside down, swaying his hips softly with the beat as he lands quietly on his feet.

When Hanzo walks around the pole, he does so on the balls of his feet, like he’s wearing heels; making his killer thighs and calves more pronounced. When he just swings with one arm for leverage on the pole, he reaches out with his other to steal Jesse’s cigar. Their proximity made it too tempting, and McCree grins devilishly as it happens.

Hanzo grips the pole with one hand as the other nonchalantly holds the cigar to his mouth, all the while grinding his crotch into the pole.

He slides his thong-covered growing erection up and down, up and down, tantalizingly slowly as he turns his head to the side and releases a breath of smoke, eyes closed in bliss. Hanzo makes his way to stand before McCree’s seat on the couch, and in front of the pole which he reaches behind his head to grab. This time, when he takes a long huff of McCree’s cigar, it’s with eyes half-lidded staring at the man as he slowly sways his hips, sliding down to rest his ass on his ankles.

His clothed bulge was in full viewing pleasure for McCree, up until Hanzo blows smoke in the man’s face.

McCree finds the action charming, bubbling up into a husky laugh with a smile evident in the tone, and he lowly says, “Holy _shit_ , Sugar—you’re a _mean tease_.”

“I never said you couldn’t touch yourself McCree.”

He’s biting his lip as he stares at Hanzo, as if contemplating the knowledge. Whatever mental battle ensued, what won was McCree taking a sip of whiskey from a flask and his cigar hand sliding down to undo his belt buckle. The sight made Hanzo smirk, and the fact that the cowboy wanted to touch himself because of Hanzo bolstered his ego. Holding the cigar firmly between his teeth Hanzo grips the pole with both hands and rolls his body against the pole a few times before grinding into it again. He repeats this motion, before doing just like before and standing in front of the pole, and swaying his hips lower and lower.

McCree waits until this motion to go from rubbing his cock through the thong to pulling out his thick cock. _He wanted to watch_ Hanzo’s eyes follow the motion, and drink in the sight of his erection.

Jesse must be a bit of an exhibitionist. That’s hot.

Hanzo lifts his eyebrows for only a moment, eyes focus on Jesse’s cock although his hip motions do not falter. Hanzo coolly puffs out another breath of smoke, before gingerly removing the cigar from his lips and commenting, “Big boy.”

As if McCree was silently awaiting his judgment, his words visibly make Jesse quiver for a moment; dick twitching in response. Jesse rolls his head back onto the couch cushion and groans lowly as he grips his cock. Hanzo was still very clearly in view. Hanzo slides down to the floor completely, and goes into a handstand back stretch, with his legs flush against the pole. From there he morphs into a bowed handstand, before gripping the pole with his thighs and using most of his upper-body strength to upright his torso.

He swivels his hips, before sliding down to land gracefully on his feet. He grinds into the pole more, before turning around, facing away from Jesse, and gripping the pole with his ass before sliding that way too. One hand on the pole above his head while he did this, the other hand slides down the side of his torso, before hooking a thumb around the thong and dragging the hand forward to his erection, out of McCree’s view.

He wouldn’t pretend to rub himself, not with how hard he is right now, but the whimper he hears behind him makes him smile knowingly.

McCree wanted to see him touch himself. He only half rewards the man, rotating only a little on the pole to give a profile view of his hand shoved down his thong. His other hand comes down from gripping the pole above his head to take the cigar out of his mouth. The smoke escapes through his nostrils this time as he takes a brief glance over at McCree who is thoroughly stroking his cock, eyes glued to Hanzo’s crotch.

“Want full view?” Hanzo questions, voice smooth. Jesse's nods of ‘yes’ are short and yet hastily repeated, before the man begs, “ _Please_.”

How could Hanzo say no to that? He taps a bit of ash off the edge of the cigar, and turns to fully face McCree.

Said cowboy is clearly too preoccupied with his length for Hanzo to even consider asking him if he wants the thong off. Rather, he turns around, shoulder leaning against the pole for support, and he takes the cigar between his fingers as he slowly pulls down the thong by his thumbs to reveal his ass to McCree. He hears the man curse behind him once, then again louder when Hanzo strokes his own erection with free hand only once. The action was partially visible with McCree’s behind view, but it had the desire effect nonetheless.

The cigar goes back into Hanzo’s mouth before he spreads his ass-cheeks to expose his taut and tan asshole.

Jesse moans behind him. “ _Please stay jus’ like that_.” That voice sounded on the edge, so Hanzo obliges; holding his cheeks spread apart, balls and erection dangling in full view. He hears a sharp intake of breath, then complete silence, followed by a shaky exhale and an almost soundless splattering noise.

Hanzo turns around and leans against the pole, admiring his work of Jesse completely slouched, a puddle of jizz pooling at his belly button and a single spurt dribbling down the side of his cock. Hanzo grips his own cock and starts stroking himself at the sight, resuming puffs on the halfway finished cigar.

He continues to stroke himself as McCree cleans himself up by a handkerchief in his back pocket. Once almost done, Hanzo walks forward, knees landing on each side of Jesse’s thighs just like before in the lounge chair. Except this time, McCree is slouched significantly lower and he’s got an unconfined erection mere inches from his face. Hanzo takes the cowboy hat off the man’s head, and places it on his own.

“Why don’t you help me as thanks, cowboy.”

It wasn’t a question.

McCree gaze drags from the cock to slowly up Hanzo’s body to land on his cigar, then finally Hanzo’s face. McCree maintained eye contact as his flask falls to the couch, hands sliding up Hanzo’s delicious thighs to his irresistible ass, that he pulls closers towards himself. Hanzo’s cock collides with his lips that part readily to take in his bulbous head.

Neither break eye contact, but Hanzo does begin to chew on his lip. When McCree’s kneading hands push the man far enough to engulf his cock half way, a hand of Hanzo’s finds purchase in the cowboy’s hair. Fingers comb through his hair gingerly, and he moans so softly despite his demanding and dominant behavior. McCree forgets that in their current position, Hanzo could easily and ruthlessly face fuck him.

He’s reminded of that fact when Hanzo pushes his hips and thus his cock a little more forward into Jesse’s mouth than what Jesse usually gives. Jesse breaks eye contact to stare down at the length before him. Hanzo takes a breath of cigar, and on exhale mutters a sweet nothing of an apology. McCree is given full control of the motion again.

In return, Jesse pushes the man’s hips towards him far enough to deepthroat his cock to the base. Hanzo shakes, tilting his head back only slightly while moaning McCree’s first name lewdly.

McCree really likes that sound, so he does it again. With renewed vigor, he returns their previous pace sucking off half of Hanzo’s cock. The archer’s thighs clench and stomach muscles tense soon after.

“I’m close,” Hanzo moans quietly; accent present as his fingernails reflexively scratch against McCree’s scalp, “Can I fuck your throat? Just a little?”

McCree responds by moving his hands from Hanzo’s ass, and resuming eye contact. Gently and with a shaking hand, Hanzo tilts up McCrees chin, before slowly sliding his cock all the way into McCrees mouth, making sure the man was okay that way, and then beginning to shallowly thrust into his mouth. All the while Hanzo’s cursing, moaning—telling Jesse in Japanese through clenched teeth and a cigar—how wonderfully hot his mouth is and how amazing his throat feels clenched around his cock. Even the feel of teeth scraping lightly on the wider parts of his cock feel erotic, and all together there’s a dozen pleasures of Jesse’s mouth that push him over the edge.

Hanzo cums quickly into the back of McCree’s throat, and just as quickly he removes his cock and plops down onto Jesse’s lap.

Hanzo would have collapsed against the cowboy if it were not for the cigar. The same cigar that is taken back from his mouth by Jesse, in conjunction with taking his hat back too. There was a mess of saliva all along the man’s lips, but he didn’t seem to care as he grins at Hanzo’s disheveled state. With his non-cybernetic arm, Jesse hooks said arm around Hanzo and pulls him forward, chest falling onto his. This is the collapse Hanzo wanted just seconds before, which makes the archer wonder if the cowboy could read his mind.

They lounge like that for an unknown length time, McCree’s hand rubbing up and down Hanzo’s back muscles soothingly.

When Hanzo summons the energy from his afterglow, he peeks up at McCree’s expression. Curious at his general reaction to the previous events.

It’s his turn to have smoke blown in his face, which Hanzo accepts as payback.

“I don’t think Tracer will be wantin’ these thongs back, by the way Darlin’.”

“She was not going to get them back anyway.”

**Author's Note:**

> I do not drink, I do not smoke, and I took a single poledancing class during my dance career. I don't know what I'm talking about for shit but I hope you didn't notice until you read my last sentence.
> 
> Here is a [poledancing move dictionary](http://poledancedictionary.com/moves/) I used for reference/inspiration. I would have gone into further detail with Hanzo's moves, but I wanted this to be an easy read so I refrained from using the vocabulary and opted for grinding and hip motions instead.
> 
> There's a line in here of Hanzo that just gets me going:  
> "This time, when he takes a long huff of McCree’s cigar, it’s with eyes half-lidded staring at the man as he slowly sways his hips, sliding down to rest his ass on his ankles."   
> I would pay cold hard cash to see that happen, Hanzo looking like that surrounded by velvet and dim lighting. I'm sweaty just thinking about it.
> 
> I wanted to take a wack at portraying Hanzo in a more of a wild bitchin' way. I hope it accents less frequented parts of his character.
> 
> This is the start of a series, I have one more fic already on the conveyor belt of my imagination. Tell me how I did!


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